


Incarnate

by perhapsoneday



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Daredevil Meets the Avengers, Dubious Comic Book Logic, Gen, I mean kind of, Mild Gore, Mistaken Identies, Not Particularly Canon Compliant, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, What even happens in this fic, attempted non-con, gross misuse of ellipsis, none of these characters are as funny as they think they are, not really slash no matter what the summary says, possible ooc, sort of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perhapsoneday/pseuds/perhapsoneday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a devil running around in Tony Stark’s backyard. He’s starting to think it might be the real deal. Steve Rogers is convinced it’s actually an avenging angel. And the criminals of Hell’s Kitchen just want Hawkeye to stop flirting while they’re being dangled off of rooftops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Things Happen and Tony Eats Pastries

**Author's Note:**

> I have no business writing in this fandom. I've seen twenty minutes of an Avengers movie and two random episodes of Daredevil. But then I came across this trope and this ... happened. So any ways, I apologize if this seems a little OOC or confusing.

It’s not a lucky night in Hell’s Kitchen, all around. 

Maria isn’t used to walking around this part of town, especially so late at   night. She’s exhausted, soul sucked dry and all she wants to do is get back to her new crappy apartment, kick off her shoes, and pretend that her life isn’t falling apart around her ears.

She keeps her head down. It’s the heaving breathing that finally catches her attention, makes her glance up. 

She runs.

The street is wet, and her shoes slip more with every step. She thinks the man behind her is shouting something, but she can’t hear past the pounding in her ears. 

_ Please, please, please, I just want to go home. _

A hand claws at the back of her coat. She goes down on the pavement, knees scraping open. She screams, half terror, half frustration.

_ This can’t be happening to me this isn’t happening this isn’t happening _ .

She rolls onto her back. The man has a knife. He’s spitting obscenities. Maria kicks and claws and spits and screams and screams. The man is  _ heavy _ and he smells. She pulls out some of his hair. He rips at her blouse.

There’s a burning in her shoulder and she’s running out of breath. Oh God, he’s so  _ heavy _ . 

And then … Maria can breathe again. The weight is gone. She hears … grunting, and snarling, and a heavy thud.

Her shoulder screams as she scrambles back. Her head hits a wall.

There’s someone else here. Someone moving, fast, a blur of motion against the dark light. The man is on the ground. He’s cowering. Spitting blood. He chokes and his collar is grabbed. He writhes as he’s dragged along the ground. 

The shadows swallow them, but Maria can still hear the man. Screaming about the devil.

She runs the last five blocks home.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------

 

Tony’s not a church kind of a guy. Meaning that the one time he tried to follow Steve to church on Sunday, he got practically tied to a tree outside, presumably to keep him from spontaneously combusting in blasphemous flames.

It’s Sunday again. Which means Steve’s not there to mess with. Clint and Natasha are off doing their spy thing. Tony’s not supposed to poke Banner. And he finished adjusting his Disintegrator Microcircuit and there’s no one to show it to and he’s  _ bored.  _

Tony Stark does not do bored well.

Jarvis politely suggests that he might feel better if he gets something to eat. Which, fair enough, he tends to skip meals when he’s working.

He goes out to eat. (He thinks Jarvis will appreciate the space. Well. He’s taking his phone so, he’ll still have Jarvis. But chances are good Tony’ll leave him mostly alone. Unless he gets bored. More bored. Bored-er-ed.)

He’s feeling a bit of a sweet tooth, and it’s been a while since he’s flirted with Naja. The bakery it is. He doesn’t mind the walk.

Naja is ancient and tireless. As Tony tells her everytime he walks through her door, she never ages a day. She sniffs at him. Tony’s been coming to this bakery for over a decade, and Naja has yet to say a single word to him. It’s their special thing. Plus, she makes the best pastries. 

The bakery is lively today. Good food always does good business, but today the clientele is particularly lively. Tony sits at the counter with his sweet roll and coffee, makes some small talk with a couple fans, though he’s quick to reassure Naja she always has his heart. He keeps an eye on the rest of the customers as well.

“Don’t you lecture me about adrenaline. This is  _ Maria _ , we’re talking about. That girl didn’t even flinch when the loan scandal broke on national television.”

“Oh, it is  _ not _ the same thing. Besides, all she said was that  _ someone _ dragged the guy off of her. It’s not like she stuck around to take names. It was probably a cop.”

“In Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Alright, then it was one of those big shot busy bodies from Stark Tower.”

Ooh, hey, Avengers business. He sidles a little closer to the two women whispering in the corner. Well. One of them was whispering. Loudly.

“If it were, the whole thing would be frontline news instead of swept under the rug.”

Ouch. Tony knows how to be discreet. And clearly these two have never met Barton and Romanov. 

“Lulu. There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As. The Devil.”

“Well  _ someone _ has been cleaning up the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Who else would bother?”

Tony’s heard this rumor. It came up in a SHEILD report when he was perusing (snooping). A string of uncorroborated reports of vigilante action in Hell’s Kitchen. SHEILD didn’t seem that impressed, but Jarvis noted it because of the extensive hospital reports connected to the incidents.

Tony disapproves -- because clearly this vigilante has issues, and only wusses and people with things to hide have secret identities -- but not enough to get involved. Hell’s Kitchen is a rough neighbourhood. And the guys getting their faces kicked in (pretty literally) are clearly real scumbags. And frankly, goofing off aside, the  Avengers have their hands full tracking down Hydra agents.

Still. It’s one thing to read about a rumor in a report stolen from a bunch of paranoid … well, some of them are decent enough, he probably shouldn’t go there. But there’s something about actually overhearing the rumor being talked about that makes Tony wonder if ignoring this is one of those obvious mistakes people make in the movies. 

Seriously. The Devil? It’s not even subtle. If there’s a new player on the scene, Tony really ought to be paying attention. 

He’ll have Jarvis start a file.


	2. Ominous Priest is Ominous

Steve doesn’t go to church as regularly as he’d like to. Avenging work keeps pretty odd hours. So it’s important to him, to take the time when he can, to sit in peace, head bowed, humble as any other man. The world has changed in a lot of ways. Faith, humility, the service of a greater good, these principles are bedrock when Steve is desperate for a sense of equilibrium.

The screaming doesn’t start until the man bursts into church in the middle of the service.

Steve is on his feet and reaching for his shield before he remembers he didn’t bring it with him. There are no weapons in sight, just a hysterical man throwing himself at the priest's feet. Steve pushes his way into the aisle.

“Please, please, you have to help me! You have to protect me.” The man claws at the Father’s robes, and Steve sees bruises beneath the tear stains on his face.

“Are you alright, sir?” he asks, mostly addressing the man on the floor, but also the besieged priest, who has remained remarkably calm.

“My soul. My soul,” sobbs the man. “I’m not a bad man. I swear.”

“Son,” the father bends down, “have you done something wrong?”

“It’s just work. I just do what I’m told. I’m not a bad man. I swear.”

Someone in the congregation has the police on the phone, which is a good thing. Steve’s just not so sure if this man is a victim anymore.

“Why do you fear for your soul?” asks the Father.

“There … there was a man. He owed money. A lot. I … I just did what I was told, I swear. But then … I don’t know how he found me.” The man speaks haltingly, in between sobs. “He  _ knew _ , Father, he knew that I had sinned. He came, in the dark, in the shadows.” The man shudders. “He said … he said that I had to pay. For what I had done. And he said … it didn’t matter where I ran. Where I hid. He knew my name. He knew how to find me. And he knew what I had done.” The man drops to a whisper. “He knew about the screams.”

Someone behind them gasps

“Please. Father, please. Don’t let him take my soul. I’m a good man.”

“Hey.” Steve steps forward and pry the man off of the Father’s robes. “Who was it?” he asks. “Who was he?”

“He came from the dark. From the shadows. And he moved like lightning.”

By the time the police arrive and take the man away, most of the congregation has dispersed. There are still a few gawkers, lingering in the pews, but it’s clear the service is over. The priest sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you okay, Father?”

Instead of answering, he says, “Hell’s Kitchen is not too far from here.”

Steve doesn’t understand. “Yes, Father.”

The priest gazes up at the crucifix, holding a hand absently on his chest. “They come here, sometimes.  Not like this, but … late at night. All desperate, all sorts of men and women. Sometimes they’re hurt. Sometimes … it’s not their blood.”

“Do they all come from Hell’s Kitchen?” Steve asks. 

“They always ask for help,” says the Father. “But they’re never good people.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a priest. And I also live next to Hell’s Kitchen.” He shrugs.  “I take their confessions. I call the police when they ask me to. But when He says He know where to find them, He’s not bluffing. Those who don’t listen …” he shakes his head.

“Father, if you need protection--”

“We all need protection, son. Sometimes it just comes in different forms.”

Before he leaves, Steve has to ask, “Does he have a name? This shadow man?’

The Father smiles. “They call him The Devil. I make my own judgments. As does the Lord.”

Faith, humility, and the service of a greater good. Bedrock.


	3. Tony Doesn't Make A Very Good Caveman

“Tasha is going to  _ kill you _ if we get killed dead.”

“Shut up, Clint.”

“Oh, shit, Tony, what about  _ Steve _ ? Steve is totally going to cry.”

“Shut  _ up _ , Clint, they’re gonna  _ hear _ you.”

“What?”

None of Tony’s tech is working, which apparently extends to Clint’s aide’s. Which is  _ really _ irritating, but not all that bad in itself. Okay, it fucking sucks, but Tony can adapt, and Clint already fights like he’s from the bloody middle ages. 

Except, not only does Tony not have his suit, Clint doesn’t have his bow, and Clint’s leg is  _ really _ broken. And he’s a lot heavier than he looks, and, it turns out, no, Tony cannot carry him.

It’s okay though. It’s fine. It’s darker than hell in here, which keeps them hidden, and Tony’s working on something. He doesn’t have anything to work  _ with _ , and he can’t see his own hands, but it’s fine. He’s working on it. 

“Tony.”

“Shh.”

“Tony. Tonyyyyy.”

“Whaaaat.”

“Do you see that?”

“I don’t see  _ anything _ , Clint.”

“There’s someone here.”

Tony don’t see anything but black and more black, but pretty soon he can hear something going on. There are voices in the distance, getting louder, growing both closer and more agitated. They turn, and then they’re coming straight down the hallway. Tony presses Clint as far back as he can, shoving a hand against his mouth to keep him quiet. Man’s leg must be in agony.

“I’m fucking tired of this shit. Fucking panty-wearing bastards think they can come in here and --”

“Would you fucking shut it already, Kev?”

They’re just feet away. Tony stops breathing. Clint is sweating like. Probably about to go into shock. That’s a thing, right? At least he hasn’t screamed yet.

Think, Tony, think.

“Don’t you fucking tell me --” There’s a rush of air and the voice chokes off.

“Kev?”

It’s quiet for a moment, then something heavy hits the floor. Three guesses what.

“Hey. Hey! Show your fucking face!”

Six gunshots.  Holy  _ shit _ , the dude must be shooting blind. Tony and Clint are gonna be so dead pretty quick here. 

Think, Tony,  _ think. _ There’s got to be something. He slides away from Clint, staying low against the wall. He gropes along the floor for a weapon, anything.

Three more shots ring, high in the air this time, and then there’s the crunching sound of flesh hitting something hard. Tony’s hand closes on something heavy and round.

_ Okay, Tony, you can do this. You built an arc-reactor from scrap metal in a cave. You can bash a guy's head in with a club like a caveman. Just, you know. Try not to hit Barton. Or get shot.  _

Something is going on with Mr. Kill Everybody With Ricocheting Bullets, and it definitely sounds like a psychotic break. Best get this over with as soon as possible. Tony rolls forward onto his feet, cat steps towards the noise. Guided by sound alone, he swings his weapon as hard as he can at where he thinks the guy’s head is. 

He’s stopped before his arm is even fully extended. Tony’s breath catches, the only sound for a moment, before a low, smooth voice echoes through the dark.

“Easy, Stark. He’s already down.”

Holy shit.  _ There’s someone else here. _ And he just block Tony’s swing in the pitch black. And apparently knocked out two thugs.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Nobody.” The pressure holding back Tony’s arm falls away. “Your associate appears to be going into shock.”

Oh shit. Tony scrambles his way back to Clint in the corner, nearly poking the poor bastards eye out in the process. C’mon, buddy. Stay awake.” God, his face is so cold to the touch.

“Not … sleepy,” says Clint. “Why’d he turn out the lights?”

“Shit, man, we gotta get you out of here.”

“Expecting company?” Asks Creepy McVoiceintheDark, and he’s moved, down to the right this time. He sounds … amused.

Well. If somebody’s coming, it’s either Steve or more bad guys, so. “Not the good kind,” he answers.

Again, it’s quiet. No reply. Which. Tony was kinda under the impression that Ninja Shadowman was, you know. Helping them out. Things are about to get a whole lot worse if he read that wrong. He waits a tense minute “Hello?” he stage whispers.

“Tony?” It’s Banner who answers him, which,  _ what? _ but also  _ thank fuck. _

“Over here. Katniss isn’t doing too great. Is Steve --”

“--checking for stragglers,” Bruce interrupts, huffing as joggs up to them and Tony drags his hand over to Clint. “Nice work, by the way. Well, not so great getting into trouble and then getting Clint hurt, but --”

“That is  _ not _ my fault!” 

“--how’d you take all those guys out?”

All those … Tony didn’t get a good look earlier, but this wasn’t exactly a single man operation. “I didn’t. We didn’t.”

“You … then what happened?”

“You know,” says Tony, “I have no idea.” And he doesn’t like that one bit.


	4. The One Where Clint's A Dick

Steve’s not really a coincidences kinda guy. Especially when it comes to his men -- his  _ team _ \-- he’s learned not to take anything for granted.

Steve knows that Tony and Clint can take care of themselves. But he also knows that they were in way,  _ way _ over their heads in that warehouse, already wounded, and basically advantageless. God knows they’ve all made a habit of walking out of that sort of thing little worse for the wear, but … Steve can feel the difference in his gut. He’s just brought home two men who should be dead.

Tony seems more irritated than anything. Clint is pretty out of it, but he told a much different story, and he’s the only one who might have been able to see what was going on given the conditions. Steve’s not sure how much credence he can give the man’s account given his injury, but it sure paints a striking picture: a looming figure, unhindered by the dark, fast, powerful, and unhesitating.

“It was like he could see in the dark,” Clint had said.

“ _ You _ could see,” Tony snipped back.

Clint had shaken his head. “Barely.”

They had looked for him in the warehouse, of course, but it was like he’d vanished. And now, well … everyone is glad, of course, that guys are okay, but no one, with the possible exception of Clint, seems to understand why Steve is so concerned. 

“We’re not alone here anymore,” Bruce tells him. “I know Stark likes to gripe about the ethics of vigilantes and secret identities, but, at some point, you just gotta take the win, you know? These were bad guys, and we had a little help taking them down. If the new guy turns out to be trouble later, well. We’ll deal with him.”

Steve’s not uneasy for the reasons Banner seems to think, but the man might still have a point. Because even though there is a part of Steve that wants to  _ know _ , to be validated or to disillusion the half-formed ideas he daren’t voice, maybe it’s better  _ not _ to know. Afterall, if Bruce and Tony are right, then there’s nothing to be done about the man right now. And if there’s something more at play … perhaps Steve ought careful what he meddles with.

He almost leaves it at that, except for Clint.

“Steve.”

“No.”

“Steve.”

:No, I don’t want to play fetch.”

“Steeeeve.”

Steve manages very forcefully not to throw anything. “What?”

“Did you find him yet?”

“Find who,” Steve asks. Because he definitely hasn’t been thinking about it.

“My knight in creepy dark leather.”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing to go on.”

“C’mon. How many guys can there  _ be _ in the city who could do something like that?”

“We’re not even sure  _ what  _ he did.”

Clint waves a hand. “Just follow the trail of knocked out bad guys. It’s what I do whenever I need to find the rest of you .”

“Oh, sure I’ll just walk into the local villain pub and ask if any of them have had any trouble lately.”

“... I’m torn between following up on the ‘ _ local villain pub _ ’ thing and asking if you could  _ be _ anymore defensive.”

Well. Maybe a little bit. Clint is being really irritating, though. Not Tony-level irritating, but he’s definitely chafing against the leg-cast restriction. Which, now that he’s realized, Steve feels bad about.

“Look,” he says, “I can check the police reports. Do some recon at the local hospital.” Actually, that’s not an entirely bad idea. If he hadn’t been so distracted by the incident in the church, he probably would have done just that ages ago.

“I knew it,” Clint grins. “You’ll find my Cinderella.”

As an added bonus, this will get Steve out of Stark Tower for a while, and  _ that _ sounds like an  _ excellent idea _ .

  
  


He finds it’s actually not that difficult these days for him to out in Civilian gear. People who track that sort of thing will know where he is a mile before he gets there, but the general public don’t pay him that much attention. And it helps that Hell’s Kitchen has it’s own problems to worry about.

Now, he is  _ not _ making assumptions here. It happens to be  _ perfectly reasonable _ to start the search in this part of the city. Not only was the warehouse where Clint and Tony got into trouble on the perimeter of the Kitchen, the whole area tends to attract a shadier section of the population. If someone needed to get medical care without all the questions, for example, the Kitchen hospital would definitely be the place to go. So it’s really got nothing to do with what the priest said to him the other day.

Perfectly. Logical.

His reception at the station is less than warm, and it only gets worse when he asks if they’ve had any vigilante activity. Steve stares the officers down one by one, and waits for his answer.

“Yeah,” says the desk sergeant, “that’s kinda a sensitive topic around here. Um. I’d ask if you wanted to see the case files, but I kinda like my job. Besides, I’m pretty sure that Stark guy has a copy of all of them anyways. Not that he’s supposed to.”

This information is interesting, but not immediately helpful.

He has even less luck at the hospital. The first nurse won’t even talk to him. Which is understandable given the traffic in the ER waiting room alone, but not encouraging. He asks the second nurse as nicely as possible, expecting the same result.

She sighs and shakes her head at him. “It doesn’t work like that,” she tells him instead.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, patient confidentiality is not actually a joke. And for another … he’s not the sort of guy you  _ find. _ It’s more like he finds  _ you. _ And, pardon me, but you don’t look like no sinner, and you damn sure aren’t helpless. You’re barking up the wrong tree.” She shakes her head at him again, and starts moving on.

“Wait, what does that  _ mean _ ? Who’s ‘he’?”

“If you’re asking,” she tells him, “then you already know.” And she closes the door in his face.

He asks a lot more questions that afternoon, but he doesn’t get anything useful until he returns to the Tower discouraged.

“Not that we didn’t already know this,” says Clint, “but you’re a terrible spy. All that charm and those brains, and somehow, you still have the social instincts of a puppy.”

He can’t exactly deny the point right now, so he just retorts, “And exactly what information did you get today, hm?”

Clint stretches his arms over his head and grins cheshire slow. “Me? Oh, nothing much. Just, you know, exactly where he’s going to be at 12:07 tonight, and what he’s going to be doing, and with whom. Also, his name is Daredevil.”

“...”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a sore loser.” He laughs.

“Clint … did you, by any chance, know all of this  _ before  _ you sent me on a wild goose chase across half the city?”

“Wha -- me? I would never -- hey, you wanna see if Tasha wants to come?”


	5. The Avengers Are Literally Giant Toddlers

He can’t believe, after all this time, they thought they could get away with _not inviting_ him.

They invited Natasha. They asked Bruce if he wanted to come. They’re even letting Thor tag along, which, given the whole religious fixation thing, Tony thinks is both hysterical and the worst insult of all. Seriously, who goes devil hunting and brings the god but _not_ the atheist?

“I didn’t invite _anybody_ ,” Steve is insisting. “We’re trying to be subtle and non-aggressive here. Going out in full Avenger force is a really bad idea.”

“I could go alone,” suggests Natasha.

Steve grimaces. Ha. See how he likes the idea of being left behind. “That’s an option,” he says slowly, in the way that they all understand means it isn’t an option at all.

“I wouldn’t mind staying behind,” offers Bruce, who doesn’t seem to be more than mildly intersted in the whole affair.

“Nope,” Natasha shakes her head. “We need you  there in case _he_ ,” she jerks a thumb at Clint, "decides to saw his cast off."

“Hey,” sniffs Clint.

“I also do not like the idea of sending an injured comrade into battle,” says Thor with a frown. “Perhaps _you_ should remain behind, Barton.”

Steve sighs. “Clint’s the only one who knows where the meet is, and he’s being … uncooperative.” _Nicely played, Barton._

“Then I must in good conscience accompany you,” Thor nods.

“Ahem,” Tony clears his throat. “Please explain to me how all of you were planning to identify our little Daredevil without the _only_ person in this room who can recognize his voice.”

“Hey,” squawks Clint, louder this time. “I was _there_ , remember. I actually _saw_ the dude.”

“Yes. In the dark. While you were in shock. Are you _confident_ you’ll be able to tell if it’s him tonight?”

Clint hesitates, then shrugs.

“Well then --” says Tony.

“This is gonna be a disaster,” Steve mutters.

“I know,” Natasha grins.

“--Who’s up for a devil hunt?”

“Yes!” Clint crows. “Um … does someone wanna help me stand up?”

 

For a guy with a broken leg and undoubtedly either way too many or way too few painkillers in his system, Clint’s surprisingly spry.

Hell’s Kitchen, on the other hand, is not doing much to impress Tony. It’s a little skeevy, kind of festering, but distinctly lacking in sulfur and brimstone.

They’ve come out in civilian clothes, per Steve’s insistence, like that’s fooling _anyone_. Well, Thor is dressed like Thor, because that’s just  not worth touching with a ten foot pole. He knows that Clint and Natasha are also definitely armed, even if it's not obvious. As for Tony himself, he may have neglected to mention to Steve that his suit isn’t far behind them.

Clint is leading them through what Tony suspects is an entirely unnecessary warren of alleyways, and it’s making some of the others a little twitchy.

“How do you even know the guy is gonna show?” asks Banner.

“Local talent’s been laying low in these parts. Pair of Australian smugglers are trying to fill the vacuum, bringing the usual trouble plus a rumored boat load of illegal merchandise.” Clint’s voice is suddenly fully professional.

“How do you …” Banner stops when Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

“What does this have to do with the Daredevil?” Tony asks

“Ring officers have been dropping like flies the last few days, taken down in a very _particular style_ . It’s no secret  -- to anyone paying attention -- that Daredevil’s working his way up their chain. So now the Aussies are running scared, and they’re getting _sloppy._ Tonight they’re go--” Clint cuts of mid-syllable, which is the only reason Tony notices the enormous shadow before it crashes deafeningly into the trash cans in front of them.

Holy … is that a _person_? Tony jerks his head up reflexively to see where the body came from, and at first his eyes refuse to focus on the black silhouette crouched like a fucking gargoyle on the edge of the roof.

“Banner,” barks Steve.

“Got it.” The man is already kneeling next to the heap next to the trash can.

Tony doesn’t hear whatever Steve says next because the last sections of his suit are clicking into place and then he’s following Romanoff and Thor towards the roof. It can’t have taken him more than twenty seconds to suit up and make the climb, but when he gets there the figure - the _man_ \- is standing in the half shadows on the other end of the roof. Thor has his hammer ready but not raised, and he and Natasha are standing just a few feet onto the roof next to …

Holy _shit_ . They’re standing next to a _massacre_. There are half a dozen bodies littered all round, and at least as many weapons. Jarvis informs him that they appear to be mostly alive, but they aren’t moving, and there’s a hell of a lot of blood. The worst of it looks to be pooled around the Daredevil’s boots.

“What. The hell. Happened here.” he grows as effectively as he can through the suit.

Prince of Darkness says nothing, though his head might turn in Tony’s direction.

Natasha steps forward, hands turned out pacifying. “So these are the smugglers, then,” she says. “We heard you were having some trouble with them.”

“It might be more accurate to say they were having some trouble with _you_ ,” says Thor. Man doesn’t even have the good sense to mumble it. Yeah, he’s going to be getting a ‘don’t interrupt me when I’m inter-- negotiating’ talk later. “It’s quite impressive.”

There’s almost no inflection in Daredevil’s voice when he answers, but it’s like a direct kick to Tony’s adrenal system, yanks him back to a dark corridor and gunshots in the dark. “You brought an army into my city because you heard about some trouble.”

“Aw, well.” Natasha waves a hand. “Boys, you know. None of them wanted to be left behind.”

It’s really freaky, being able to sort of see the person the voice belongs to. Weirder still because, despite the night vision built into Tony’s suit, it’s hard to bring him into focus. Must be something about the bright lights of the city mixed with the sharp edges of the shadows.

Thor cuts into the conversation again before they can find out if Daredevil is going to answer. “What are you looking at?” He actually sounds a little disconcerted.

Daredevil grins, lightning flash so vivid it makes Tony think of tooth-paste product placement in the middle of a horror movie. “Nothing,” he says.

There’s a noise behind them then. Tony’s a little bit on edge, so, sue him, he glances back, just for a second. He’s relieved to see Steve vaulting up onto the roof. It’s just a second, just a fucking second, but when he looks back Natasha is running to the empty space where Daredevil used to be.

Tony follows her and sees … nothing. No Daredevil, just an empty alleyway.

“Where the hell did he go?”

“He just … turned around and stepped right off.” Natasha sounds composed, but she’s frowning hard. “It’s like something else caught his attention.”

“There’s literally _nothing_ down there, Natasha.”

“But he was here, then?” Steve asks, breathless behind them.

“Oh, that was definitely him alright,” Tony confirms.

“What did he look like?”

“He looked mostly like a regular man to me,” says Thor with a shrug.

“So do you,” Natasha half-laughs. "Mostly."

Tony takes issue with this whole conversation. “What’s that supposed to mean? What exactly were you _expecting_ him to look like?”

“Hey, it was a valid question,” Natasha answers on Steve’s behalf, though the man himself looks distinctly uncomfortable. “We deal with some crazy shit. And clearly,” she gestures at the smugglers on the roof, “this guy _does_ some crazy shit. The whole point of coming tonight was to see what we’re dealing with.”

“I thought the point of tonight was that Barton was bored,” says Thor, and he actually sounds surprised.

Tony ignores him. “What do you mean _what_ we’re dealing with? I mean, c’mon. Guys. You don’t _actually_ think this guys is, like, the literal _devil_ or something?

“Or something,” Steve mutters.

Natasha scoffs. “Oh please, Tony. You’re the only one who’s said anything about that.”

“Wait, what’s the devil?” asks Thor.

Tony’s about to launch into a well-informed, not at all biased description, but he’s interrupted.

The door to the roof creaks open. Before Tony’s fighting instincts can kick in, a tiny little head pokes out, eyes wide.

Jesus, it’s a kid. Tony can’t see much farther than the boy’s neck but he looks dirty and thin.

“Are … are you the police?” he asks, voice thin.

Steve always takes the lead with kids. He steps forward without rushing. “We’re not the police, but we are here to help. Are you alright?”

Thor and Natasha are inching to block the worst of the guns and blood from view, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice. He pushes the door open, and Tony sees he’s not alone.

At least four kids are standing crowded behind the boy. One of them has her hand fisted in the first kid’s shirt, and looks to be six years old at most.

Fuck. Clint said _smugglers._

“He said you would take us home,” says the boy. “Can … we want to go home.”

“Of course,” says Steve. “Can I ask who told you that?”

“The man in the mask,” says the little girl.

Three floors below them, the man from the sky wakes up with a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why Steve was so slow getting to the roof, he had to stop Clint from climbing up. And Matt disappeared because he jumped into the window right below where he was standing. To let the kids out, not because he was trying to be creepy.
> 
> Also, I know I'm treating Banner like he's little more than the team medic. It just happened. Sorry. I might right an extra one shot to fix that.


	6. It Was Going To Be A Dragon But It's A Dinosaur Instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do actually have this almost finished, I'm just lazy.

There’s been an all too familiar tension in the team ever since the night on the roof. It’s the kind of ongoing not-argument where everybody else is trying to be civil while Tony lurks around waiting to jump on whoever says one wrong word. Waiting for it blow over sets everybody on edge. Except for Clint, of course, who tells them to ‘stop being such passive aggressive babies’ and then continues about his business as though everything is normal.

Things are definitely not going so well, but at the moment that’s actually mostly because of the ten-foot tall reptile that’s trying to eat people. And by people Steve means himself.

Following the thing down into the sewers was probably not his best move ever, but in his defense he hadn’t actually gotten a look at it while he was up on the streets. He saw carnage, heard footsteps, and followed on instinct.

He did manage to get a single good shot at it’s eye, which is why all he’s missing right now is a good portion of shirt instead of anything more important. He decides that running is definitely a good option. At least until ten seconds later when a previously disinterested lizard becomes very invested in chasing him.

God, it  _ smells _ down here.

It would be really nice to have his shield right now. It would be even better to have some back-up. Naturally, exactly when he needs to be able to count on assistance, he has conveniently not told anyone where he was going, made a point of leave all of Tony’s tracking tech and cell-phone thingies behind, and has been spending the last week basically avoiding everyone who might notice him missing.

‘It’s called  _ brooding _ ,’ his inner-Clint informs him. Because that’s really helpful right now.

Basically, he’s got nothing, and no one is coming. He can’t lead this thing back up out the sewers without putting civilians in it’s path. Also, no matter how much practice he gets, it’s kind of hard to come up with a plan B while he’s trying to outrun a homicidal dinosaur.

It takes teeth snapping at the air behind his shoulder from him to finally have an idea. He rejects the idea immediately, even as he’s ducking and rolling, letting the body of the beast sail over his head, then darting down a side corridor.

It had been an easy habit, not so long ago, to shoot off a quick prayer in situations like this. Not even asking for anything, just a kind of acknowledgment. But that was before the day at the church, before the warehouse and the roof, before his mind was filled with all these questions and the unbidden, unsanctioned  _ expectations _ . Things are different now. What if he does pray, and he does ask for help? What if he gets it?

For all his mind is spinning, his body keeps moving. The same way that his legs are strong enough to keep him running, and his adrenaline keeps him sharp and sure-footed, the man-made marvel that’s somehow became  _ him _ knows to the foot how far he has been running, remembers the distances and turns and what the  _ mean _ .

He’s right below the edge of Hell’s Kitchen

He can’t run forever. Any moment now he’s going to come barrelling around a corner and come face-first with a dead-end. And that’s only if this  _ thing _ doesn’t get him first. And what then? He becomes lizard-chow and the thing moves on to the unsuspecting civilians above them? What if there are  _ more  _ of these things down here?

The lizard is almost on top of him again, and all the sudden he’s seventeen years old and back in an alley-way, not knowing if Bucky is going to come around the corner or he’s going to get his ass kicked.

He never did know how to back down from odds like that. Time to do something stupid. Something right.

He sweeps a leg as he turns and the momentum carries the beast head-first into the wall. It buys him precious moments.

“Whatever you are, Daredevil,” he calls, “I could definitely use a hand down here.”

In the same breath he comes down on the creature’s head. His bare fists do little against the lizard’s hide, so he spends most of his energy just trying to keep it distracted while he dodges the teeth, claws, and tails. The saving grace of the cess-pit they’re in is that the dinosaur is too large to come after him with more than one of his weapons at a time. Steve’s best move seems to be using his speed and the reptile’s own weight to send it crashing around.

The force of the exertion burns against his bolstered metabolism, though the heave of his lungs sounds weak next to the furious screeches of the lizard.

A vice coil’s around Steve’s ankle and all the sudden he jerking through the air. His head slams against brick and sludge. As red spots bloom across his eyes, all he can think is that the sneaky bastard copied his technique.

He waits for jaws of death, but all he feels is wetness soaking his clothes. He curls his hands over his head and tries to roll, but just as he starts to move something grips his collar. 

He’s yanked up and back, gets his feet underneath him, mostly by luck. Somehow, his brain figures out that it’s not a caw dragging him up; it’s a hand.

There’s a voice next to his ear, low and quick. “Go for the back legs. We need to get it in that corner.”

Military instinct overrides even the ringing in his head. It takes him a split second to decide the strategy is good, and then muscle memory takes over. Kicking out, they force the monster backwards. He has to duck beneath the whip lash of it’s tail, but then he presses forward again. Daredevil flickers in the edge of his sight, lashing some kind of baton at the creature’s throat at the same time he brings a knee up sharply against its chest.

The growling chokes up as they push the lizard up against the wall. Steve gets an arm around one of its scaley joints and uses all his weight to try and pin it in place while staying at an angle the tail can’t quite reach. He cranes his neck, trying to see what Daredevil is doing, but he manages is to scrape his skin against the beast’s hide as it thrashes. Steve’s feet struggles to find purchase until a loud crack stills all movement.

Steve lets go as the creature slumps beneath him, pulling his hand free before it can be pinned.

Daredevil is standing next to the lizard’s head, unwrapping some kind of cable from around the thing’s jaws. It takes Steve a moment to figure out that Daredevil just snapped the dinosaur’s neck. 

“Holy fondue,” he breathes, leaning down to brace his hands against his knees. “How did you … I can’t believe you  _ found _ me.”

“You called,” says Daredevil, and Steve knows the chill that runs down his spine more than just adrenaline crash.

“Do you…” Steve changes his mind at the last second. “Do you think there are anymore of these things down here?”

Daredevil stiffens and turns his head. He’s quiet for a moment, and when he does speak, it in a growl to match those of the beast they just killed. “I’ll find them.”

Steve is left to make his own way out of the sewers.


	7. What's a Little Almost Manslaughter Between Colleagues?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! It's so long. I just want to say, for the record, that one of my least favorite devices is dramatic irony. And yet, somehow, that became the point of this entire piece.

Apparently, this is a normal thing now. Whenever the Avenger’s find trouble in Hell’s Kitchen, they team up with Daredevil. Though “teaming up” doesn’t really seem to describe the way he shows up and disappears as he pleases, rarely bothers sharing his intell, and pays absolutely  _ no attention  _ if they try to tell him to stay put. Like if they ask him to play look-out, Daredevil never explicitly objects, he just doesn’t seem to see why this should exclude him from running off after bad guys and smacking them around. Not that any of Tony’s teammates care, since he always manages to make it back just in time to stop anyone from sneaking up on them.

The only time Daredevil actually specifically refused to do something was once when Steve asked him to drive the truck of contraband out of the line of fire. He hadn’t even give a reason either, just said, “No. I’ll cover you from the roof.”  And Steve had just  _ accepted _ it. 

Honestly, Tony thinks Steve is being really weird about anything and everything Daredevil, and it’s even worse because he’s trying to pretend he’s not. Tony wants to call him on it, but he’s running into a problem of his own.

The trouble is, for some ridiculous, unpredictable, inexplicable reason,  _ Tony _ has actually ended up being the only person who’s taking the ‘devil’ thing seriously. Really.  _ Tony. _ Not Steve, Mr Sunday School. The rest of the team treat Daredevil with a cautious respect. They trust him to have their backs in certain situations, and put a lot of stock in the fact that he always gets the job done. The only other exception is Clint.

Oh, Clint. Reasonable, clear-headed, down to earth Clint. Tony was counting on Clint’s reliable, cynical, sarcastic nature, but that’s not what he gets. Clint appears to have decided that it’s his life’s greatest mission to become Daredevil’s best friend.

His friends’ ignorance aggravates Tony endlessly, but it also kind of scares him. He just can’t think of a convincing way to explain why he thinks Daredevil is not to be trusted. Not without going into things … he really doesn’t want to go into. 

So, he does what’s only logical, and pushes Daredevil in front of a speeding truck.

Okay, it sounds really bad when he says it like that, but it’s not like he starts off that way. 

In the beginning, all he’s doing is collecting evidence. Discreetly, of course. Jarvis records pretty  much everything he sees when he’s wearing the suit anyways. Most of the data gets deleted shortly after, but Tony starts keeping the clips of Daredevil, going over them with a fine-toothed comb. It’s a lot easier to see what someone’s doing when you can put them on a screen, slowed down and magnified. Jarvis analyzes the Devil’s fighting style, and the report would be interesting except that Tony’s distracted.

Daredevil’s quick. And when they’re in the field, it seems like the dude never takes a hit, like he’s got a sixth sense or something. Turns out, though, the computer screen tells a whole different story. When he can take a closer look, Tony sees that Daredevil  _ does _ get hit. In fact, he’s just as likely to lean  _ into _ a punch to get his own angle as he is to twist away. Now, Tony fights in the suit, but he’s also been on the receiving end of a few punches himself, and those suckers coming at Daredevil looks like they hurt. And the guy takes them like they’re nothing. Adrenaline and training can account for a lot of things, but Tony suspects there’s more to the story.

It could be there’s something in Daredevil’s freak show costume that disrupts the force or something. Tony’s not actually sure what the guy’s outfit is made of, despite several covert attempts to gather samples. (He doesn’t want to talk about it.) It’s definitely something synthetic, but too light and flexible to provide total protection. When things get really creepy is the day Daredevil gets stabbed.

The vigilante is the first to notice the woman slipped out the back door while they take care of her henchmen and he barks out a warning. Natasha gets there first, gets the gun out of her hand before she turns back. Naturally, she doesn’t see Daredevil Ninja-ing his way through the shadows until she’s almost on top of him. She’s pretty furious at being pinned, but Daredevil manages to keep her contained until Natasha can take her down.

It’s only later, back in Star Tower, that Tony realized exactly  _ how  _ Daredevil had restrained the woman. 

“Holy  _ shit _ , jarvis, play that  part again.” Whatever Daredevil’s suit is made of, it clearly isn’t enough to stop a blade from going clean into the guy’s gut. All that Jarvis caught on camera before Tony turned away is Daredevil grabbing the woman’s hand on her knife and actually pulling it  _ forward _ . Jarvis pulls up the grainy CCTV and Tony watches as Natasha takes the threat down and Daredevil pulls the knife out and tosses it in the sewer with a distinct lack of yelling and fainting from blood loss. 

To say the whole thing is unnerving would be an understatement. Tony makes a concerted effort to not freak out. There are any number of possible explanations. He decides to make a list of what he knows:

  1. Extensive martial arts skills
  2. Access to some kind of information network beyond police, SHEILD, and whatever shit Clint and Natasha use
  3. High tolerance to physical damage (Advanced healing capabilities? I̶n̶v̶i̶n̶c̶i̶b̶l̶e̶?̶ ) 
  4. Night vision
  5. X-ray vision?
  6. NO sense of humour (creepy one liners don’t count) 
  7. S̶e̶r̶i̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶u̶d̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶n̶i̶n̶j̶a̶
  8. No fashion sense
  9. Proclivities for _extreme violence_
  10. Activities limited to Hell’s Kitchen
  11. Possible vampiric aversion to sunlight
  12. Cocky, pretentious, self-righteous dickhead.



It’s not a damning list when he looks over it (pun intended). And in the end, that’s the problem; he’s got instinct without any solid information to back it up, so he hesitates to act until things come to a head. 

  
  
  


The first half of the operation hasn’t gone so great, but they did manage to disable the bomb and flush the last of the bad guys out of their hiding hole. 

_ “Tony, you got eyes on our guys?” _ Steve’s voice sounds winded in Tony’s ear.

“Wa -- I thought they were over by you?”

Natasha swears.  _ “Sounds like they’ve slipped our net. _ ”

_ “Got eyes on them _ , _ ”  _ says Clint.  _ “They’re getting in a van on 40th.” _ There’s the all too familiar twang of a bowstring.  _ “Damn. Clipped the short one in the shoulder but they’re pulling away.” _

Tony makes an about face while looking at the map on his viewscreen, and the little purple dot that’s Barton’s location. “Clint … isn’t there a building between you and 40th?”

_ “Buildings have windows, Tony,” _ Clint drawls patiently. 

_ “We need to stop them before they get away,” _ Steve interrupts.

There’s a single shot over the coms before Natasha’s cool voice comes on.  _ “Crippled the van. They aren’t going anywhere fast.” _

Tony’s really starting to doubt the accuracy of his GPS technology. “Uh, Natasha, aren’t you at least six blocks away?”

_ “Bullets travel really  _ far _ , Tony.” _

_ “Stark _ . _ ”  _ Steve’s voice is just a tad too amused to be stern.  _ “Can you get there or what?” _

Tony’s already touching down on the pavement, forcing the van to swerve to a violent stop. He can hear the car door slam open on the side facing away from him,and he can’t move fast enough to stop one of the thugs grabbing a civilian and shoving a gun against the old man’s head.

The hostage starts cursing up a storm, half in Spanish, and it earns him a snarl. Even as the gun is shoved harder against his temple he spits out, “Devil take you, inbred fucker.”

“Easy, easy,” Tony says. He still has at least thirty seconds before Clint catches up to them and the rest of the team is even farther away. 

Natasha and Steve talk him through the diplomacy in quick commands. They keep his hands down even though his instinct is to raise them placatingly, (That gesture doesn’t work so well when turning out your palms is also how you fry people’s brains), and the remind him to slide his mask up so he looks charming and human and non threatening. Keeps up a stream of chatter, voie level and words neutral.

“Okay, okay, it’s fine, we’re all fine.” He doesn’t see where the other thugs went, which isn’t good, but at least it temporarily limits the number of guns pointed at the old man.

And then, because Tony had the gall to think vaguely optimistically, a shadow of red looms behind the gunman.

_ “Is that Daredevil?” _ Clint pants, but Tony opts not to answer in lieu of dealing with the shit-fest that just became a double shit-fest.

The hostage gets shoved onto the road on his ass and the gun ends up practically at Tony’s feet. He makes a split second decision to head for the old man -- no need for the guy to end up hostage twice in one day -- when he finds himself being tugged down by the his neck,  _ fuck _ .

Oh, wait, shit, he forgot he took his faceplate off. Oh -- ohhh. He thinks daredevil might have just tugged his exposed face away from a bullet. But how …

Oh for the love of -- he is so catching flak later for letting himself get flanked. 

He slides his mask back in place and whirls to deal with the four shitheads who still have guns, leaving Daredevil to deal with the mess behind him. He blasts the weapon out of the first guy’s hand just as the second one goes down with an arrow in the knee.

_ “Tony, Clint, you’ve got more incoming,”  _ Natasha yells.

_ “Shit _ ,” Clint curses at the same moment Steve demands an update.

For the third time, Tony turns on his heel. The first thing he processes is Daredevil bashing in a thug’s face a few feet in front of him. His attention is drawn down the street by the commotion. He sees Natasha, just few block away gun facing squarely at the  _ massive truck barrelling towards them _ . Only then does he catch sight of the old man, still sitting on the road with his face scrunched in pain.

“No, don’t --!” But he’s too late, Natasha has already fired and stepped out of the way.

If tony moves, his body won’t be sheilding the old man from the bullets still raining on him from behind. If he doesn’t move, the old man is going to be pancake.

So, yeah.

This is the part where Tony shoves Daredevil in front of the truck.

In retrospect, the problem with obsessively trying to prove something was that even though he’d completely failed to prove  _ anything _ , he’d already internalized his belief that it was true.

He doesn’t even immediately realize he’s fucked up. In a move he’s quite proud of, he knocks the two gunman down and out of the way without anybody getting shot.

_ “Status?” _ Steve barks.

_ “No casualties,” _ says Natasha.

“Close call, though,” Tony grumbles from on top of the criminals.

_ “What the FUCK, Stark?”  _  Clint screams so loud in Tony’s ear it almost knocks him sideways.

“What?”

_ “What?”  _ Steves echoes, followed quickly by, “ _ Holy hell, what happened to Daredevil?” _

This time, Tony sees the old man first. He’s on the sidewalk, grazed, but conspicuously free of bullet holes and unflattened. And then there’s the truck, turned over on it’s side. Next to Daredevil, in a dark pool of red.

For a moment, Tony is equally convinced that Daredevil is dead, and that he’s fine.

Daredevil sits up. 

The team is talking. Natasha and Steve are hovering, but Clint is kneeling in the blood -- because it’s blood, at least, it looks like --  Tying a makeshift tourniquet just above the -- christ is that  _ bone? _

Tony barely feels himself stand up, but Natasha’s infront of him in a flash. “Don’t,” she says, slamming the palm of her hand against his chest. “Get out of here.”

“I have to --”

“Just go. We’ll handle it”

He leaves. 

“Jarvis --”

_ “Perhaps you should work on repairing the damage to your suit, sir.” _

Okay, so Tony’s starting to get the idea that he maybe fucked up a little. He kinds of wants to hack the CCTV footage and see what’s going on, but that makes him think of all the hours he spent basically spying on Daredevil before, and that doesn’t feel … appropriate.

The black sludge of guilt starts congealing in his stomach over the next half hour, but not enough to stop him from noticing when the privacy controls in the med bay get triggered. So they brought Daredevil here, then, instead of the hospital. He wants to be relieved, but he’s suddenly gripped by the idea that maybe the privacy setting is an attempt to keep  _ him _ out. Of a room in his own building. 

Fuck that. He’s Tony Stark,  _ Iron Man _ , for christsakes. 

When he pushes his way inside, Daredevil is propped up on a bed, winged on either side by the equally concerned Steve and Bruce. Tony thinks it’s probably a good thing that neither Clint nor Natasha are there. Though it’s most likely she’s trying to stop him from slashing the tires on every single one of Tony’s cars. Or helping him, maybe.

“Stark,” says Steve, but he doesn’t seem to know where to go from there.

Bruce doesn’t have any such problems. “Shit, dude, is it true you pushed this guy in front of a truck?”

“I’m fine,” says Daredevil, though his voice isn’t as low and smooth as it usually is. 

“Well, no,” says Bruce. “You’re kind of fucked up. Lacerations, broken bone and all that. You will be fine, though. Eventually. If I could just --” His hands flutter up to Daredevil’s head, still firmly covered by his mask.

“My head is fine,” Daredevil says more insistently, leaning away.

“You could have a really serious concussion,” interjects Steve.

“I don’t,” says Daredevil, and Tony starts wondering how long they’ve been doing this. 

“We don’t even have to take your mask off,” Bruce coaxes. “We could just scan --”

“No,” says Daredevil, and he sits up straighter. Both Steve and Bruce lean quickly back, like they’re afraid Daredevil will try and get up if they push him.

“Um,” says Tony, feeling incredibly surreal, “I’m really sorry you got hurt. Because I pushed you in front of a truck, that is. I wasn’t really. Intending. That.”

“What the Hell did you think was going to happen, Stark?” Steve rounds on him.

“I thought he was invincible!” Tony defends himself.

There’s a moment of silence in the room.

“Um,” says Bruce, “what?”

“Uh.” Tony’s not sure how to explain. He didn’t even know he believed that until he said it. He realizes that having this confrontation with Daredevil in the room was maybe not the smartest idea. “I just thought he was. You know. I thought he might actually be the Devil. Like. The real, literal one.” Holy shit, is that a really offensive thing to say? 

Steve and Bruce are both staring at him like he’s bonkers, but Daredevil just shrugs. “Yeah. I get that sometimes.”

“Wait,” says Bruce. “You thought he was the Devil? But I thought that Steve thought that he was really an angel.”

“What?” says Tony.

“ _ What?”  _ says Daredevil.

“Uh,” says Steve. “That’s not really. I just mean. I didn’t understand how you could, you know, do all that stuff. Like, knowing when people need help and stuff.” Steve is starting to turn really red and Tony’s feeling 120% better about this whole situation. But I didn’t -- wait, how did you know, Banner?”

“Clint said so.”

“Hey,” asks Tony, “where is he, anyways? Is he gonna, like beat me up? From a distance, if you know what I mean?”

“Natasha took him to cool off,” says Steve. “He’ll be back.”

“Uh,” says Daredevil, and he sounds more alarmed than Tony has ever heard him. “I think I should go now.”

“You mean before Clint gets back?” Bruce smirks. “He’s just a little … enthusiastic.”

“I think I’ve had enough for one day, if you don’t mind,” Daredevil answers a little stiffly. He swings his legs over the bed.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea” Steve says, but he’s apparently still too embarrassed to be any more forceful.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Tony offers, but Daredevil walks past him with barely a “No thanks.” 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Bruce asks. 

Daredevil pauses at the door, cocks his head over his shoulder, not quite looking at them. “It’ll be fine,” he says, not really answering the question. He lets the door slide shut behind them.

“Damn,” says Tony quietly. “There’s something about that guy I can’t quite figure out.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, “me either.” 

It’s the first time they’ve agreed in a month. It feels good. Tony actually kind of feels okay.

“On a different note,” pipes Bruce, “you’re gonna need to invest in some new fire extinguishers.”

“What? Why -- oh. No. CLINT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! Though I kind of feel unsatisfied. This story is deliberately from Tony and Steve's POVs, but there's obviously more to it than that. Would anyone be interested in some follow up one shots with the other characters?


End file.
